Christmas in Trenton
by Elenimou
Summary: Stephanie attempts to bring Christmas to Trenton's underprivileged children and mend a fractured family.
1. Chapter 2 The Play

Yes, its 6 weeks after Christmas, but it took me time to figure out how to post on FF. I'm still unsure about chapters, so the best chapter, #2, will come soon...I hope. Thank you LilyGhost for your help getting me started here. And of course, thank you to JE for these wonderful characters.

What was I thinking? Bringing Christmas gifts to children in the homeless shelter sounded so simple. What I didn't expect was the Merry Men's generosity. I was now buried under toys, clothing, and food with only days to get everything wrapped and arranged for delivery.

Tank, all 6'6" and rock hard muscles walked in to the chaos. "Need help wrapping?"

I said eagerly, "Yes please." I couldn't wait to see how his massive hands would wrap the gifts. Could he hold scissors? Did he have the dexterity to wrap gifts? Personally my wrapped gifts were looking a bit sloppy, my hands were covered in paper cuts and I had sealing tape caught in my hair.

My mouth fell open as he expertly rolled out the paper, cut it evenly with his knife, centered the gift box and made crisp folds and tight corners. I was mesmerized as he measured ribbon from the roll and with magical hand movements formed a giant bow.

"How do you do that?" I asked.

"Excuse me?" Tank looked up distracted.

"Where did you learn to do that?"

He smiled, "I could tell you it is the same as folding a parachute, but actually I did holiday gift wrapping at a mall in college."

My eyes opened wide, "Gift wrapping, college?"

"Sure, I graduated from college unlike some Rutgers dropout. I worked odd jobs for spending money. You think Ranger keeps me around for my beautiful face? "

"No, Ranger keeps you around so he has someone to beat up in the gym. Where did you go to school?"

"That, Baby Girl, is a secret. I don't want to ruin my image."

"Which image?" I asked.

"Rough tough guy," he growled jokingly. That is exactly the image I had of him. It took me years to realize he was tame and could speak more than four words at a time.

"Why did you go into the Army?

"I wasn't ready for the corporate world, wanted to see the world."

"And did you?"

"Sure every cesspool on four continents," he murmured and shook his head.

"Now here you are at Rangeman," I stated.

"Ranger and I are perfect, one is handsome and the other smart. Bet you didn't know Ranger was so smart?" he winked.

I was taken aback by his openness and playful nature. Did someone slip him some happy pills or was it the holiday season?

Soon we were joined by Raphael and Tico, a new Rangeman employee and the unwrapped gifts quickly became wrapped. Tank, the logistics expert, began arranging the gifts for delivery.

Bobby and I were assigned to deliver gifts to a school with many poverty level kids. In my research I was saddened by the growing poverty in our area. Jobs and opportunities were fast disappearing.

The December grey day was giving was to twilight and the temperatures were dropping as we took the gifts into the school counselor's office. Two children stood by watching.

"What's ya doin'?" asked the girl about age ten, dressed in a thin coat, with no leg coverings, hat or gloves. I was cold looking at her.

"Delivering supplies to Mrs. Morrison," I told her.

The little boy around seven years old, wearing a well-worn hooded sweatshirt, no gloves, torn-knee pants and old red sneakers said, "They look like Christmas gifts."

Bobby deflected the question, "Why you not at home, school are was over an hour ago."

"My grandpa forgot about us again or the car won't start. It's always something," shrugged the older girl.

The boy blurted, "We won't be getting Christmas presents from Santa."

I stared as the boy continued, "We are bad children because we made our parents run away."

I was speechless. Bobby handed me a several gift bags stuffed with presents and whispered to me, "Take these in, I'll talk to them."

I set the bags down in the counselor's office, "Mrs. Morrison, there are two children outside waiting for their grandfather."

She flustered, "The Abbott children? Not again. The grandfather's car isn't always reliable. I'll call to make sure he's coming, otherwise I'll drive them home."

"The little boy said they won't be receiving gifts because they were bad, running their parents off. Do you know about that?"

"Yes," Mrs. Morrison said, "But I can't talk about it. Child safety regulations, you know."

"Will they be receiving any of these gifts?" I thought of the girl in her thin coat.

"I don't think the grandparents completed the registration forms. They are very secretive people. The children don't participate in any school activities."

On the way back to Rangeman I watched snowflakes fall against the windshield and thought of the little girl and her thin coat and the boy only in a hoodie. I turned to Bobby and asked, "What did you learn from the kids?"

Bobby began, "Allada and Brighton Jacobs."

Allada?

"I had her spell it thinking maybe it was Aladdin."

"Mrs. Morrison called them the Abbott children," I responded.

"Curious, they said their last name was Jacobs."

"According to Mrs. Morrison they live with their grandparents. Perhaps the grandparents are Abbotts. Did they explain why they were bad?"

Bobby began, "Apparently they are not allowed to talk about it. Allada was quite tight lipped, but Brighton couldn't hold back. To paraphrase him, ' Daddy went away to war. Mommy got lonely and started going out. She'd bring home her friends and they'd make us go to our room. Daddy came back and was sad and lived in the basement. Then one day Mommy left with her friends and didn't come home. Daddy went looking for her."

"And neither parent came home?" I asked incredulously. "They abandoned their children?"

"The children feel abandoned. I'm sure Allada would have mentioned if the parents were dead, if she knew."

"Are they from around here?" I asked.

"I don't think so. Allada said a neighbor took care of them for a few days but another lady came and took them to another house. Sounds like foster care. A few days later the grandparents arrived and they all moved here."

"From where?"

"Brighton didn't know and Allada wouldn't say."

"Geez Bobby, can't we do anything?"

"What did Mrs. Morrison say?"

"She can't talk about them. Child safety regulations," I replied.

Bobby thought awhile, "If the grandparents are neglecting them, then social services should be contacted, but if the school hasn't seen a reason up to now, we can't come waltzing in after one encounter with the kids. Anyway, I suspect the grandparents would quickly pack up and move again after the first meeting with social services. Sounds to me they are hiding from someone."

"The parents?"

"Maybe or someone else," he shrugged.

As we neared Rangeman headquarters, I sighed, "The least I can do is find the parents."

"Why? Stephanie, this isn't your responsibility. You don't know the whole story; the kids may be safer with the grandparents. The mother may be a prostitute and dealing drugs. The father probably has PTSD. Neither may be fit parents."

I knew he was right, but I wanted to know why the parents abandoned their children. Were they dead or in jail? I was in charge of research for Rangeman and finding people was one of my specialties. Allada's and Brighton's parents would become my priority…. maybe. Ranger had to approve.


	2. Chapter 2

We returned to the underground parking lot in time to see Santa and his elf scurry for a Rangeman SUV.

"Hold on Santa," I yelled and I angled out of the car.

" _Por_ _Favor_ " whined the elf Hector.

Ranger pulled into the parking area and emerged from his black Porsche Cayenne. His smile was full and bright, "I like this Santa model, looks like he's been working out not chugging eggnog."

Hal was in the Santa costume and Hector was the elf assistant. Hal's nickname is Halosaurus describing his broad chest, shoulders and huge neck. In the Santa costume he looked liked like a giant red velvet sofa with a white hair Maltese dog on one end. The long white hair wig and beard obliterated his face except for his blue eyes. The elf was was several inches shorter but still broad chested. When compared to Hal's bulk, Hector was adorable in his brown jacket and shorts, green tights and curled toed shoes. His gang tattoo under his eye was covered with a glitter star. Swallowing very hard to keep from laughing, I asked, "Do you have your escorts?"

'Yes," Hal grumbled, "The soldiers covering us."

"GI Joes?" I gasped, "I thought we dismissed that and went with reindeer."

"Thankfully Ranger had a better idea," Hal muttered.

Suddenly six Rangemen dressed as British Foot Guards in their red jackets and black trousers, highly shined shoes came out of the building. Each carried a large sack.

Ranger chuckled and said, "I'm considering changing Rangeman uniforms."

"There would be another Battle of Trenton, right here on Haywood Street," growled Lester, the only blonde solider in the group.

As Santa and his crew departed in several SUVs, Ranger, Bobby and I slipped into the 4 door Cayenne to follow. On the way to the Christmas party I told Ranger about Allada and Brighton and their family story. "I'd like to do a search for their parents. See if they are even alive."

Ranger thought awhile, "You could be opening up trouble."

"I'll, er, we'll be careful" I said as I glanced back at Bobby. Bobby was drafted.

The homeless shelter had rented a church hall for the Christmas Party. As we arrived, I couldn't help but think about my childhood Christmases. I loved the Knights of Columbus parties except for having to dress up in velvet dresses with excessively large bows at the back. The food was always amazing from pizzas to pastas and the most amazing desserts. I began to drool remembering the cream cakes, pasticcotti, cannoli, zeppole, sfoglitella, pandora, ricotta cookies and various ice creams. No wonder I have a dessert fetish.

Santa Claus was Mr. Magucci who always smelled like bourbon. Having to deal with fifty or more children sitting on his lap probably took reinforcement. Early on in my Santa career I christened Mr. Magucci, Santa, by vomiting on him. I was hot, anxious and probably overcome by the bourbon smell on Santa's breath. I don't know how Santa survived the spew, but my brand new white rabbit muff was ruined.

After the explosive show I was never again permitted to sit on Santa's lap. Instead I had to stand with my back to Santa and hurry through my wish list. Elephants have a long memories and so does Santa.

The food tonight was a curious blend of several ethnicities. In an attempt to be culturally sensitive the menu ran from Latino to African American to Asian as well as Italian and American. Several Rangemen were in the food line helping dish up meals. Tank had a big spoon in hand as was dishing up mac and cheese and loving every minute of it.

"Ranger," I whispered, "Tank seems to be wearing unusual pants. Is there a reason?"

"Shhh, you'll see."

"I don't remember Tank being assigned a part in the show, " I stated.

"Remember, the guys changed your plans. Ella and her sewing machine have been busy. I think you'll be pleased."

The dishes were cleared and the tables pushed back. The wood floor was swept clean with giant dust mops. The children were invited to gather on the floor while the adults and older children took seats behind and to the sides. On the raised stage high school students filed out and began their hip hop version of the Christmas story. I had insisted the language be clean. Several students danced and invited others from the audience to join them. This in turn brought the children in the audience to their feet and they danced along. The hall rocked with music and dance but most of all, with laughter.

The magician came next. Dressed all in black with a cape and top hair, it was Woody, a Rangeman. He pulled the requisite bunny from his hat, doves from his jacket, scarves from his cuff. His magic wand sprouted flowers or flashed with bright light and smoke. He levitated giant silver hoops and pulled coins from children's ears. Before our eyes he turned water into confetti. He had card tricks galore which he interspersed through his routine. For a conclusion the magician brought forth a large nutcracker from his top hat. Placing the nutcracker under his magic scarf, he implored the children to concentrate with him and the nutcracker would come to life and bring his friends. I was pretty sure the Rangeman Merry Men were not dancing scenes from the Nutcracker ballet.

The hall and stage were momentarily dark then a single light brightened the stage. There stood Tank, all 6'6" in black trousers with red and gold stipe down the legs, red jacket with double breasted gold buttons and cording, white belt with gold buckle, gold fringe epaulettes, several very large medals and ribbons on his chest and best of all, a giant Beefeater bearskin hat on top. His hands were at his side, covered in white gloves and below his left hand hung a scabbard. Just to be sure, my eyes dropped to his feet wondering if he was wearing ballet slippers. His shoes were polished until they shined like mirrors. Phew, there would be no tour en l'air though I'd pay to see Tank pull it off.

The kids were mesmerized by the nearly 8 foot tall giant nutcracker. Several children gasped and I heard others say, "Wow" or maybe that was me.

Tank stood ramrod straight, his eyes didn't move. I'm not sure he was even breathing. Slowly he marched in a somewhat stiff legged march to the front of the stage and stopped. Reaching across his body, he grabbed the handle of a saber and at first drew the saber just 6 inches from the scabbard. Pausing briefly he then removed the saber and dropped it down smartly beside his right leg. After another short pause he quickly brought the saber up vertical to where the handle was opposite his face, paused, then dropped the saber to his side once again.

He turned around and with his back to the audience barked a command in his thunderous voice. The rest of the stage lights came on and from stage's sides three soldiers each carrying a Springfield rifle on their right shoulder marched in the curious stiff legged march to the center of the stage. They stopped when they were four feet apart. The soldiers were dressed in their red jacket British Foot Guard-type uniform but not as elaborate as Tanks. There were no gold fringe epaulettes or cording and only a single row of gold buttons. Their belts were black with gold buckles. Like Tank, they sported the giant Beefeater bearskin hats. I hadn't noticed before but all were very nearly the same height, something that would become important later.

Tank slowly marched down between them, turned and returned to the back of the stage. There he replaced his saber to the scabbard. Each movement was crisp.

"That is truly impressive," I remarked. "Ella did a great job with the uniform and Tank is ...intimidating. I'll never look at a nutcracker the same way again."

At Tank's command the soldiers turned to face the audience, their heels slapping together after their turn. With another command, they arranged themselves in a single line. Then still unmoving, Nutcracker behind them began barking basic arms drill commands and the soldiers responded; port arms, left shoulder arms and so on. After several repetitions the commands became more complicated including bouncing the rifles off the floor and twirling them. Upon routine's completion they were commanded to return to the two lines facing one another. With one command the soldiers began another a very detailed and impressive rifle drill including twirling the rifles not only in front of them as before, but also over their heads which was difficult what with the tall Beefeater hats. The rifles were tossed to one another tapping the rifle butts on the ground between each toss. The soldiers paused and without a command arranged themselves in a single file line facing right and the front rifle was tossed over the heads of the others to be caught by the one in back and the line stepped forward. Each toss had to be precise to clear the giant Beefeater hats and came down in precisely the right location to be caught. This was done six times until each soldier had their own rifle again.

I stole a peek at Ranger. He looked back, "Nothing to it Babe, Basic Training." "Pfffft, yeah right," I responded.

Upon completion of the routine Tank the Nutcracker gave another command and the shoulders turned sharply to the audience, once again slapping their heels together. Another command had each soldier step sideways from the middle creating a spot for Tank to move into. The command was parade rest. The soldiers lowered their rifles so the butts barely touched the ground and put their left hand behind their back. The Nutcracker took 4 steps forward and once again went through the routine of drawing his saber, lowering it and then raising it vertical in front. While holding the saber, Tank barked a command then placed his saber in the scabbard. Suddenly from the back of the hall came "Ho-Ho-Ho" and Santa an his elf came forward.

The kids instantly went from being mesmerized by the soldiers to calling out to Santa. Once at the front, Santa stopped, smartly saluted the Nutcracker and soldiers. With final commands the soldiers raised their rifles, placed them on their right shoulders, reversed and marched back six steps and marched off the stage. The Nutcracker followed.

I looked around and noted the Rangemen who had helped serve were aligned along the sides of the hall. "Security?" I asked.

"Yes plus they didn't want to miss the magic show and arms performance," Ranger answered.

"I don't blame them, it was impressive. How long did it take the guys to learn how to do all that."

"I told you Babe, Army basic training."

"Not all of it. "

"No, "he smirked. "Manuel was in a special unit. He taught the guys."

"Are those real rifles?"

"Yes but ceremonial. They won't fire."

After all the gifts had been distributed and the party began winding down, Santa's elf went onto the stage and taking a microphone from the shelter's superintendent, began singing Silent Night, all the verses, first in English and then in Spanish. Who knew elf Hector had such a lovely baritone voice.

As children and families milled around preparing to leave, the soldiers appeared and children flocked to them. All wanted to touch the giant Beefeater hats. Many asked the soldiers to teach them arms commands; right shoulder arms, port arms, and so on. Ranger moved among the kids helping them hold the rifles according to command. A squeal went up when Tank appeared without his scabbard and saber. Tank the babe magnet? Or where they responding to a strong command figure? Many wanted to see the saber but he kept it sheathed explaining it was too dangerous to expose with so many people around. I stood back surveying the many smiles and overall peace and happiness in the hall. It was worth the long hours pulling this together.

Back in our apartment on the 7th floor, Ranger pulled me into a big hug, "Thank you Babe, that was wonderful. I think even Hector enjoyed himself."

"He was great. I was worried though, he put up such a fuss I was afraid I would end up in the green tights."

"You would have been adorable, but I've heard you sing."

I punched him in the shoulder, "I'm not that bad. I was considering Lula for Mrs. Claus but figured her language might be a bit raw for the wee ones."

"Spandex Mrs. Claus could give me nightmares," Ranger mused.


	3. Chapter 3

The butt numbing search for Allada's and Brighton's parents begins.

* * *

Bobby and I met at the stairwell door to the fifth floor. He had come up from the medical suite on the 4th floor, I was down from the 7th, "Ready to start the search?" He asked.

"I hope I haven't bitten off more than I can chew," I moaned. I had to find Allada and Brighton's parents, if not for them, then for my own peace of mind.

" I wasn't expecting to be your assistant," Bobby said somewhat mockingly. At least I hoped he was mocking me. He continued, " Allada had a southern accent and remember, Brighton said ' Daddy went off to war.' Daddy may have been at a military base in the South or was a civilian contractor from the South."

"Jeez, Bobby, that's a shot in the dark, but it's a start."

After several hours, Bobby looked over my shoulder reading the monitor, "Birth certificate from Clarksville, Tennessee. I nailed the accent. Ft. Campbell strides the Kentucky and Tennessee border." Reading further he said, " Brighton's parents are Johnson Jacobs and Marlein Abbott Jacobs."

I nodded, "That explains the differences in last names, the kids are now living with their mother's parents. Do we need to trace down Allada's birth certificate?"

"I don't think we have to now. Allada probably picked up the southern accent when the family was at Ft. Campbell. We have the parents and the mother's maiden name. Now we need to find Johnson's military record."

"They don't call me the Queen of Searches for nothing Bobby," I responded.

"Fine, just don't trip any alarms in the Pentagon."

I felt insulted until I noticed his eye wink as he walked away.

When he returned I too was walking around, "Read what I've found." Bobby sat down in my chair in front of the monitor and began reading, " Sargent Johnson Jacobs shipped out to Iraq when Brighton was 3 and Allada was 6. He was in Iraq 2 1/2 years, multiple tours. Finally assigned to Ft. Sill in Oklahoma. " Bobby read further, "Discharged and began treatment at the Oklahoma City VA hospital for PTSD."

"So we the start from Ft. Sill area," I said with more confidence than I really felt.

"If Johnson had PTSD, that would explain his coming home and living in the basement," Bobby explained. "He was trying to isolate himself from the war's influence. Too many soldiers come back and go through hell before they receive treatment, or even IF they receive treatment."

I thought about Bobby and the others at Rangeman I knew who were in combat and wondered about their emotional healing. They guys were always so sensitive to my emotional turmoils, were they relating from their own experiences? I shook my head and returned to the monitor.

After a coffee break and working the numbness from my butt, I resumed my search. Bobby was talking to Ranger when I motioned both over. "Marlein Abbott Jacobs had a record beginning while Johnson was overseas. There was one speeding ticket with drug possession Chickasha, OK, near Ft. Sill. She paid the speeding ticket and the drug charges were dropped. Six months later she was charged with prostitution with possession of unprescribed pills in Oklahoma City. Another fine."

Bobby nodded, "So far follows the kids' story."

"How?" Ranger asked.

" Brighton said Mommy would bring home friends."

"You don't think she was hooking at home do you?" I asked in a low and pain filled voice.

Bobby shook his head, "I hope not. I suspect the friends are drug friends, maybe her pimp."

I was getting nauseous knowing the kids were exposed to such people. I dug more into police records from around Ft. Sill. "Here,' I said, "Johnson has a drunk and disorderly arrest in Lawton not long after he returned from Iraq. Then there's nothing more on him...or on Marlein."

Bobby sat down, "This is where they split. We have names, starting date and location. We will find them. Let's do background on her parents, there might be some missing pieces there."

Ranger grabbed my shoulder and leaned over whispering in my ear, "Good job Babe." He then placed a kiss on my temple. Usually he doesn't get so personal on the 5th floor. I wasn't going to over think his actions, I just let the shiver run down my spine, enjoying each millimeter it traveled.

"Marlein Abbott was born to Marlin and Eileen Abbott. Marlein, cute combination of the parents' name. Let's see, she was born in a military hospital Minot, North Dakota. What's up there?"

"Air Force base," Bobby said.

Going back to my military search engine, "The father Marlin Abbott shows up again stationed California, Nevada, Japan, South Dakota, England, and San Antonio, Texas where he retired. I have an address in San Antonio. Why is he in Trenton?" Suddenly another search came through, "Wow! I have a local address!"

"Is it near the school?" Bobby asked.

I scrunched my nose, "No. Remember Mrs. Morrison said the grandparents were private, maybe they live away from the school to limit the children's contacts with fellow students."

" Allada said sometimes the car broke down or Grandpa forgot them."

I shivered thinking about the two young children standing in the winter cold waiting for their grandfather to pick them up, not knowing if he was coming. They lived 5 miles from their school.

" Now we are back to finding Johnson and Marlein," Bobby said. "I have work, call me if you find something."

I was deeply engrossed in my work and didn't notice Ram was sitting next to me.

"Bobby told me what you are doing. Anyway I can help?"

I almost said no, but saw the hopeful look in his eyes. "Yeah I have the address and Texas plates, old Oldsmobile. Could our patrols keep and eye out around the house and especially near the school. I worry about the kids, apparently grandpa is a bit forgetful and the car isn't reliable."

"10-4, I'll pass it on to other patrols in the area."

I turned my eyes back to the monitor. Where did Marlen and Johnson go? A search of morgues and police reports in Oklahoma turned up nothing. I expanded to nearby states; Texas, Louisiana, Arkansas, Missouri, Kansas, Colorado and New Mexico. At least I was brushing up on my geography.

"I have an outstanding speeding ticket, for Marlein Jacobs, Santa Rosa, New Mexico," I told Bobby as he walked over to my cubicle.

"She ran west, down I-40, good. Continue looking, Queen of Searches, through New Mexico, Arizona and California along I-40 at first. Don't forget Las Vegas, Nevada, it's possible she turned north off I-40."

"Las Vegas?" I asked incredulously. "You think she's hooking in Vegas?"

"I'm thinking she ran to a place she knew from her childhood. Her father was stationed in Nevada."

I hadn't moved in hours, my bladder probably needed emptying but I didn't want to leave my work. I was hot on the trail, the hounds were baying. My shoulders ached and I began rolling them for relief, "California driver's license and an address in Lompoc. Where is and what is in Lompoc?" I muttered quietly."

Bobby moved behind me and with his medically trained hands began massaging my heck and shoulders. "Vandenberg Air Force base, northwest of Los Angeles."

I didn't moan, I try to save that for Ranger's manipulations, but the shoulder and neck massage was great. Bobby knew all the muscles and which way to rub them.

Bobby continued, "That fits, Marlin was probably at Vandenburg."

"Uh huh," was all I could manage with the neck massage.

Bobby stopped rubbing my neck, " Now concentrate on Johnson. Look for new driver's licenses, social security, anything. Those three states: New Mexico, Arizona and California to start. Let's see if he followed her. Give it another hour then call it a day. You need to relax."

Bobby was right. My butt was numb, but I didn't want Bobby massaging it. I could think of other hands to do the job. I was nearly at my time limit when I found something. I grabbed the phone and called Bobby, " New Mexico truckers license and accident report, Johnson Jacobs injured outside of Flagstaff, Arizona."

"How long ago?"

"Two weeks ago! I'll send you the report."

"I'll make some calls," Bobby said and he hung up.

I shot my hand into the air in victory salute. We were getting close.


	4. Chapter 4

Babe," Ranger muttered into my ear. "Time to shut down and come to bed."

I awoke with a jerk, "Wha...ouch my neck."

Rubbing my neck Ranger cooed, "You've been asleep at the computer. Have you had dinner?"

"I'm not hungry."

Reaching up to my forehead, "You aren't hungry? You must be ill." Finding only normal temperature he reached over and powered down the computer and lifted me to my feet. "I talked to Bobby and have called a detective friend in Santa Barbara. Hopefully he'll find a lead on Marlein."

"Santa Barbara?"

"It's southeast of Lompoc."

Entering the apartment, "Are you sure you don't want something to eat before bed?"

I was hungry but not for food. However to placate Ranger, I saw the clementines in the fruit bowl, I said, "A couple of those will do."

"Fruit? You really are ill."

"Fruit has sugar and I believe I'll shortly need an energy boost," I replied smartly.

Shaking his head he was also smiling.

The next morning we sat at the counter having breakfast. Ranger had his somewhat usual bagel, cream cheese and smoked salmon. Thankfully he avoided the onion. I had a waffle, bacon and toast piled with orange marmalade. "I'll get a doughnut later."

"Just one?" he asked humorously.

As we sat Ranger's cell phone range. "Yo," was his standard greeting and then he listened. "That was fast. Thank heavens for midnight coffee," and he disconnected.

Turning to me he gave me a kiss on my temple, "Found Marlein working a diner off Route 1 in Lompoc. Lawrence stopped for a late night coffee and pie and the waitress had her name tag with the unique spelling."

"Now what?"

"You need to go talk to her."

I went down to the fourth floor and knocked on Bobby's office door. He was sitting at his desk and looked up and cocked an eye brow. I smiled, "Found Marlein!"

"Great and I just talked to Johnson's employer. He's recovering at home in Sabinal, New Mexico after the accident."

"Is that far from Albuquerque?"

"About 50 miles south," said Bobby.

"Ranger wants me to go talk to Marlein. We could stop in New Mexico and talk to Johnson."

Looking out the small window Bobby scrunched up his nose, "We aren't going anywhere soon. That's a blizzard out there." As we stood watching the horizontal snow, a call came in from Cal on patrol. Bobby listened and hung up. "Grab your coat, the Oldsmobile just spun out, was hit by a delivery truck, then pushed into on coming traffic where it was hit a second time. Two dead, others injured. "

"Did he say who was dead, who was injured? Were Allada and Brighton in the car?" My mind was racing. No, no, we can't have come this far only to loose the kids.

Cal and Ram, stood in the St. Francis ER waiting room. Cal's cap was pulled low over his forehead partially obscuring the flaming skull tattoo. Policemen Costanza and Big Dog were tending to paper work. Bobby went to Cal and Ram, I went to Costanza, "You handling the Oldsmobile crash, the Jacobs kids?"

"Jacobs? I have them down as Abbott," questioned Carl. Unfortunately due to my frequent mishaps with cars and explosive devices, I was on first name basis with many of Trenton PD finest.

"The grandparents are Abbott, the kids' family name is Jacobs. I've been trying to track down their parents."

"Hope you find them," Carl replied. "The grandmother died in the crash and the grandfather is pretty bad. The kids are banged up, couple of broken bones. Children's Services have been called. "

No, no, I thought. Not more foster homes especially now at Christmas. "The other death?" I asked.

"Delivery truck driver. He may have had a heart attack."

As I walked back into Ranger's office he turned to me saying, "Nothing is flying out of Newark or anywhere along the East Coast for at least 24 hours. Lawrence is going back to talk to Marlein to let her know what's happening."

"And Johnson?" I asked.

"As soon as possible, I'm sending you and Bobby to Albuquerque to talk to him." I didn't ask how we'd get airline tickets this close to Christmas because Ranger had a way of coming up with private planes for transporting his bond apprehensions.

"Maybe Bobby should stay here with the kids. He's already talked with them plus he can watched them medically. Send someone else with me."

"Then it's me, Babe." Yeah, I was hoping he'd say that.

The small private jet landed in Albuquerque. We left a snowy white wonderland in New Jersey and arrived in a cold, brown, dry climate where the only snow visible was on mountains in the distance. As Ranger drove the rental car from the airport, we saw a giant 14 foot tall snowman made from white painted tumble weeds beside the road. "I guess they have to use what they have," Ranger mused.

The drive down I-25 was through wide open Indian reservation, small communities and agricultural areas. The GPS indicated we needed to turn left, drive over rail road tracks follow a dirt road briefly. The single wide trailer sat alone in a one acre parcel of brown dirt, dry weeds and no trees. A propane tank and a 15 year old pickup truck were the only landscape accents. Johnson had been contacted by his work and told to expect two people from Trenton.

The man who answered the door had a leg cast from his toes to his thigh and used crutches. His sandy blond hair was military buzz cut, his body trim and lean. "You the ones from Trenton? You associated with Ft. Dix?"

"Not in a long time," answered Ranger. He introduced himself and me. "We are here about Allada and Brighton."

Johnson froze. "Please let it not be bad news."

"It's not good news," I snapped. I was upset this man would abandon his children. Ranger heard my anger, squeezed my hand and whispered, "I've got this" and continued talking with Johnson.

"There's been a car accident in Trenton. Allada and Brighton have been injured."

Johnson gasped, "Will they be OK?"

"Broken bones, contusions, but no internal organ damage, they will mend."

Johnson's head dropped in relief but suddenly he pulled his head up again, "What about Marlin and Eileen?"

Ranger quietly spoke, "Eileen was killed, Marlin is seriously injured and may not make it."

Johnson was stunned, but remembering his manners he said, "Please sit." He lowered himself into a well used brown recliner. In a a near whisper he said, "You found me. Have you found Marlein? Is she alive?"

I looked at the sofa, it was old but no stains. In fact the room was clean including the windows. I always notice windows. There were no beer bottles or ashtrays nor their smell. The TV was old. Johnson wasn't living the high life, but he was neat.

Ranger spoke quietly, "We have a private detective in California who has made preliminary contact with her."

"How is she?"

"We don't know, Johnson, other than she's working in a diner and has been for awhile."

Johnson looked off and took a deep breath, "I went looking for her in Oklahoma City. I asked the neighbors to watch the kids for a couple days. But I met up with Marlein's pimp and ended up in an alley. I was out of it for a few days, vomiting blood."

"You didn't seek medical care?" Ranger asked.

"I couldn't stand up and my mind was crazy, concussion and PTSD. Before he beat me he said he was going to kill me and the threaten to hurt the kids so Marlein would behave. When I returned home, Allada and Brighton were in her parents' car. Before I could get them out, Marlin pulled a gun on me and told me he would kill me if I tried to interfere. He was mad and fearful. When I asked about Marlein he said he wanted nothing to do with that druggie whore. His own daughter..." Johnson shook his head. "She and her parents never got along. I never realized how alone she was when I was deployed."

He took another deep breath and continued, "I drifted for days, weeks, months. My wife was missing, my children gone. Salvation Army in Albuquerque helped me. I got a trucker's license and started driving. Every truck stop I visit I ask about Marlein. Long shot, I know. Someday I hope to hire a detective, but they cost a lot. I figured my children were OK, I needed to find Marlein first."

I could sense his pain but there were two kids in Trenton whose nightmare was getting worse. "Right now, your kids need you more. Their grandmother is dead, the grandfather may not live. They are convinced they drove you and their mother away. Imagine how they must feel."

He sat there with tears streaming down his face, "Why are they in Trenton?"

" I don't know," I said. "Maybe its just a long way from Oklahoma or Texas. Unless parents are found, your kids will go to state custody and placed in foster homes, maybe not together."

"I can't let that happen."


	5. Chapter 5

It was well after the dinner rush and slightly before swing shift workers would be in for their meal. The waitress was average height but thin. The uniform did nothing for her body. Her hair was dull, her eyes tired. "Marlein Abbott Jacobs?" asked Lawrence. The waitress froze but continued pouring hot coffee until it over flowed the cup and ran onto Lawrence's lap.

"YEOW," he yelped.

She didn't say anything but did stop pouring.

Wiping the coffee from his trousers he began "My name is Lawrence Rojas. I'm a private detective employed by Rangeman Security, Trenton, New Jersey. They have been looking for you. Your children, Allada and Brighton, are in the hospital after an automobile accident.

Marlein gasped. "Allada and Brighton? Are they with Johnson?"

"No ma'am. They've been living with your parents Marlin and Eileen Abbott. Marlein, I'm sorry to tell you this but your mother Eileen was killed in the accident and your father may not live. Your children need you."

She sat down and put her face in her hands. "I couldn't do it. Johnson was almost always in Iraq, just short visits home. I was alone, no family. Well, my parents live in Texas but we don't get along. Johnson wrote and said he'd be coming back to Ft. Sill in a few months, so I moved there. The move before he arrived was a mistake. I started going out to clubs, just to dance and socialize but fell in with bad people. I was drinking Johnson's salary away but had to feed the kids, so I started dealing and...other things."

She was silent for awhile. "Johnson came home but he had changed, I had changed. I owed my dealer-pimp money so he beat me up. He dragged me to Oklahoma City and threatened to kill Johnson and my children if I tried to return to Lawton. I escaped and went home but the neighbor said Johnson and the children were gone. So I ran. I didn't know where to go, I just ran."

"Ma'am, from what little I know, apparently Johnson came looking for you. Your parents took the kids and moved away. They did not return to Texas."

"I was a whore strung out on alcohol and drugs. I came west. Found help for my addiction but I'm still on methadone. How can I be a parent when I'm still using."

"Are you under a doctor's supervision?"

"Yes."

"That will go a great way. Right now there are two young children in the hospital, in pain and afraid. They need their mother."

"But..."

"You can continue your treatment in Trenton. You are a mother and your children desperately need you and I suspect you need them too."

Breaking down and sobbing, "I do, I do." She took a paper napkin and wiped her nose then stopped suddenly, "What about Johnson? You said he came looking for me? Is he alive?" There was panic in her voice.

"Rangeman found him in New Mexico. They are on their way to talk to him."

"How can he forgive me?"

You have Allada and Brighton, start there."

* * *

Ranger, Johnson and I exited the plane at Trenton's small airport. Several Rangemen stood at the jet's stairs offering to help Johnson down. He refused. With his crutches held in one hand and the other on the railing, he hopped down, a man on a mission.

Two Rangeman SUVs were waiting just steps away. Johnson, Ranger and I got in one and headed to the hospital. When the elevator opened on the hospital's pediatric floor I saw Hal and Hector back in their Christmas costumes. "What's happening?" I asked.

Hal hugged me, "Show time." Hector spoke with Johnson and Ranger, both nodded. I hate being left out but didn't ask.

I slipped quietly into the hospital room. Bobby was with Allada and Brighton. Allada was still confined to bed, but Brighton was allowed time in a wheel chair and had moved to be closer to his sister. The kids were playing checkers when Santa Hal strode into the hospital room followed by elf Hector carrying several large sacks. The children gasped. "Santa?," they uttered in surprise.

"There you are! I've been looking all over for you. I thought you were in Oklahoma." Santa chuckled.

The children said nothing, their eyes still wide. Finally Brighton spoke up, "Grandpa said you wouldn't come again this year."

"Well, grandpas don't always get things right. They get confused," Santa Hal said.

Allada shook her head, "Grandpa gets confused a lot. Sometimes he forgets where we live."

I caught Bobby's eye. Bobby had suspected Mr. Abbott's failure to pick up the kids from school may be an indication of early stage dementia. Right now Grandpa was in a coma from the accident.

Santa and his elf overwhelmed the two children with gifts. Toys, books, and new clothes including shoes and warm boots. Rangeman men had come through again. But Allada remained morose. "What's wrong, Sweetheart?" Bobby asked.

"I wish my mommy and daddy where here. I remember Christmas together with them", she sighed. How could such a young girl only sigh, I thought, I'd be blubbering.

Santa Hal stood up and looked around, "Where's my elf? He forgot one present. Elf Hector where are you?" Hal bellowed.

" _Un momento_ Santa," Hector said as he pushed Johnson in a wheelchair into the room.

"Daddeeeee," screamed Allada. Brighton stared in disbelief. Carefully rising from the wheelchair, Johnson tucked his crutches under his arms and went to his children.


	6. Chapter 6

Brighton and Allada shared the same hospital bed and Johnson sat in a nearby chair gazing at his children he hadn't seen in months. They munched on the hospital sandwiches and lime jello. Brighton's expression was filled with joy, but Allada watched her father, not knowing if he was staying or would disappear again as he had throughout her life.

Santa Hal returned quietly, "Excuse me but another gift has just arrived. I'm sorry it was delayed." He stepped aside and Marlein stepped forward.

"Mommy?" Allada gasped in a tiny voice. All the fear, uncertainty and loneliness she had carried in her 10 year old heart broke apart and tears ran down her cheeks.

"Yes Allada." Marlein's eyes filled with tears as she stepped forward and hugged both children and kissing their faces. She turned to Johnson, "I'm so very sorry..."

Johnson stood balancing on one foot and pulled his wife into a long hug. He too was sobbing, "It's OK Marlein, we are together again."

In the hall, Ranger pulled me close. "Merry Christmas, Babe." Tears ran down my cheeks, I'm a sucker for happy endings. I rang the jingle bell on Hal's Santa hat. Bobby broke into a big smile, "You were the angel this time, Stephanie. I'll have to examine your back for sprouting wings." Ranger made a disapproving sound.

As Ranger pulled the Cayenne into the underground parking at Rangeman I turned to him and asked, "Where did Tank to to college?"

Ranger blinked twice quickly at the seemingly from nowhere question. He thought a minute and asked, "Just between you and me?"

"Yes. "

"He was a merit scholar, graduated from Princeton Summa Cum Laud and then got his MBA from Harvard. I'm the boss, he's the brains. "

"So who is the pretty face?"

"That would be you, Babe."


End file.
